Eclipse Recon
by Paradox022
Summary: A Manhunt fic! Rated M for graphic situations, adult themes, all around bloody stuff in coming chapters.


**Title:** Eclipse Recon

**Author:** Paradox022

**Plot Summary:** A Manhunt fic--- Backwaters City is about to get a new cast.

**Game:** Manhunt

**Disclaimer:** Yeah... I don't own 'Manhunt'. That would be the insane geniuses that work at Rockstar North. Geniuses... But definitely insane.

**A/N:** A Manhunt fic! Rated R for graphic sexual situations, adult themes, all around bloody stuff in the future. Rated R for a reason guys!

Enjoy!

"To think this 25 year old rocker would break out of human customs--- out of the restrictions of the law---- to create something so... Beautiful?"

The Director remained vigilantly perched in a darkened loft atop one of Backwaters tallest skyscrapers that still had access to hot water and electricity. Damn city went to hell after the Richter scales went off the charts- skinning the city through a blender one year ago. The underworld of Backwaters was forced to emerge to the surface..

His darkened face smiled insanely at the thought.

_"...The secluded mountainous city impaled strict curfews and laws on its citizens until the authorities had the situation under control. Survivors disappeared on the ravished streets... Treacherous gangs emerged everywhere-- like moths to the flame; they too wanted a piece of the action. In under a week lockdown was in effect._

"_...Currently forgotten by the free world presently, anyone traveling near the city will stumble across these noticeable blockades: _

**'TURN AROUND'**

**'DEAD END'**

**'BIOHAZARD AHEAD'**

**'WARNING'**

**'DANGER!' **

'...and finally..._ YOU ARE NO LONGER RESTRICTED BY LAWS AND MORALS' _

_CONGRATULATIONS...' _The man acknowledges, glancing at the special report.

Backwaters City lurks 10 miles, two forests, an overgrown field, and a chipped wooden fence from where the smartly clad- blonde reportress currently stands. _"Authorities immediately deemed the area "too dangerous and overrun with vandalism"… A perfect safe-haven for all of the scum the world had to offer..." _

He took a liking to the city straight off the bat.

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He had some shitty job as a porno director during college for some ends meat. The gleaming scent of freshly purchased 35mm EN-EL4 cameras, Nixon audio equipment, and 85.5powered lights made him wild...

His hapless film subjects and crew noticed his odder behavior with the passing of time. The first one in the studio, alone in the dark polishing the equipment... Darker rippling under eye lines any normal man shouldn't get until the age of 50 or so... Seeming so distant from his work, not caring how hard or in how many ways the big steeds of men fucked the big breasted whores of women... His grades slipped...

Wax, wax, wax, wax, moan, moan, moan, moan, hot-sweaty -grease-'em up

...Films of greater potential are out there.. Waiting.

The man of 25 is disgusted--- no, outraged was his current life.

"Lift her into the air a little more... Thhhhhat's it..." The blonde bombshell slowly gyrated against the lead man, making him grunt taking her warm, moist mouth dripping with saliva and wrapping, encircling, her full lips around him.

"UuuuuuuUUUuuuummMMmm... Huhhhhm? Brandon, baby? Where you goin'?" The animalistic moans stopped on set. The plush bed quit squeaking.

"Sir--- this shot is only half done! That Brazilian Anaconda is in stora-----"

BRRRRRRRRATATTATTATTATTTATTAAATATATATATATA !

M16's are oh so much fun.

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27 degree rotation of the light would give her larger breasts… Attract more viewers.

_"This is Alyssa Ashcroft, signing off-----" _

Bitch is digging her own grave. Publicity at any rate was unnecessary. Bad for business, you know? Eerie shadows played around the extensive room cast by the lone TV.

Interestedly the clip artist noted all the mannerisms the crew put forth to get this so called 'news cast' on the air. Heh... If only they knew where the money lay.

"_You stay classy Raccoon City!"_

The TV clicked off. 'Backwaters City ... Hmph. The amusement park for the daring.' The occupant casts a slow glance out the window at the neighboring, totally unlit skyscrapers. Only the buzzing of monitors is heard. Any normal person in their right mind would be uncomfortable living among abandoned buildings. The controller need not worry; the Cerberus--- his personal well-trained army of thugs- are on call at all times.

He bounced a blue resilience ball as a dead monitor flashed on,

"The profiles are herrre, sir... The hit is scheduled for 19:00 hrs. Everything has been planned and executed thus far." McHail awkwardly grunts.

"Good... Good... Send word to my associates, Valkir Polumnisk and Kôichi Yurutama I will contact personally about the post production, send memos to the others... I want to see some action on these streets!"

"We contacted the authorities of 3 west coast penitentiaries and 7 eastern facilities arranging for the chosen to be eliminated Texan style tomorrow morning, part of a new "Emersion Program". Currently the inmates are traveling comfortable at 75mph down I-97 West. Authorities have managed to round the inmates up on two well guarded armored busses for us (A/N: Not a huge fan of... but a' la CON AIR)... They have been met with little resistance from the press or pro-life protesting freaks."

'Nobody will realize they're gone... No witnesses... They're on their Titanic voyage to begin with, arriving alive, ending up... cold.' The director smiles.

"The bus will be taking I-97 West to highway B-62---- right here---- and will intercept our unmovable road block manned by the Cerberus special units team, creating a pick up location for the target. Once every single prized passenger in our custody---- they will arrive at the checkpoints created around Backwaters' perimeter via six unmarked vans."

"Yes... YES! This is too good to be true---" The blue bouncy ball left his grip and vigorously smacks a hidden trunk high on a shelf causing papers to fly out.

"Hm?" This cued his attention and he moseyed over. An old picture gleamed in the computers' glow.

"Ah hmn hm... More additions to our already star-studded personae...? This could prove be interesting... Yeah... Have them ready." He flicked the photo into McHail's waiting claws.

Brian kicked back into a chair labeled "The Director", flipping on his dark heavy metal bands.

"Let the games begin."

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A growl escaped the inhuman like 'McHail' as he approached a younger grunt.

"Fiiiiiiiiind themm."

The picture slid into the uniform clad man's hands, as McHail walked down the dimly lit hallway. The somewhat old photo had a once happier looking Brian in it with a smiling brunette arm and arm in the center and a confused looking Raccoon City subway attendant running off towards the side...

"E-Erm... McHail?" The grunt nervously called. The giant kept his pace.

Ricci didn't like whatever his employers had in mind... But the money of course...

"You want me to find this gringo caught in the picture too--?"

"Fiiiiiiiiind thhheeemmmmmmm."

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5:30 P.M. – Liberty City

"And tomorrow, I am questioning Donald Love about the _escape _of some 27 inmates---- Why me Ota?" The white wolf- dog lifted its shaggy head from its bed.

"Sorry…. No food." The dog raised its ears.

"Can't feed you tonight--- I'd need to go to that food place by Joey's garage but I can't because I'm leaving in 10 minutes." She slipped on a concealed standard issue .45 police gun. The young woman would need it for the journey.

Kiera Imuli graduated from MSU in 2001 with a master's degree in criminal justice.

Nothing fazed this woman. Not that she's been through a lot of death or anything, but her wits and all around un-fearing nature kept her staying cool; uncorrupted.

Kiera Toloyoak Imuli the kind of person little ones look up to and depend on. ½ white and ½ Inuit American, she stands 5'6" and has midnight black hair to her shoulders (LCPD regulations) with chocolate dark eyes. Her 25 years works for her body, giving her an all around very captivating look.

Growing up near Ketchikan, Alaska shaped Kiera into an excellent modern- day hunter, working against the ever increasing number of gangs and war lord activity.

Having a sense of caring, humor, justice and righteousness from grade school and on, Kiera became a Detective... She recalled not picking her other career choices----- art, animal care, or teaching.

Her expertise knowledge of the ancient Japanese combat art known as Bushido and unusual nature were two key assets in her early career. After being accepted into a respectable Washington D.C. precinct fresh out of college, she immediately went on assignment to New York.

Currently Imuli was on assignment in Liberty City, investigating possible links in the police force to the missing witnesses in Carcer City.

"Alright, I'm going to the station. I'll be back tomorrow morning! That's the last time I let my sexist boss walk all over me like this..." The Detective's sexist boss gave her the night shift with only one other policemen to monitor the Liberty Penitentiary's inmate's bus ride.

With only one year experience on the force, she had managed to find several pieces of discriminating evidence relating to 'Liberty's Ghost'…. The Man in the Leather Jacket.

Shuddering, she remembered the way he looked at her with a bloody eye as he was loaded into the back of an armored van.

_Oh well._ At least she'd never have to see him again. Right now he was half-way across the state, on his way to an inevitable death sentence.

She pulled her hair into a messy up do, grabbed the keys, and made her way out the door to the precinct. Dtc. Imuli was to be in the cruiser behind the armored bus en route to Rosestreet penitentiary 73 miles west of Liberty City.

Clack Clack Clack Clack-----

She tapped on the cruiser's front window.

"You're driving Grawburg. Catch "Z's" at home."

"Why? I get paid to catch them here."

The armored busses' engine grumbled in the distance, otherwise the precinct's front parking lot remained empty. Kiera threw her backpack into the cruiser's front seat while Lt. Grawburg eyed the last inmate forcefully loaded into the armored van.

If you ever pictured an older brother type, Marv Grawburg fit the mold perfectly. Blue eyes, light brownish hair, and reeking of professionalism, this is one guy you'd want to have on your side in a sticky situation.

He turned the shiny keys in the ignition, engine rumbling as the cop car came to life.

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"... If only you'd understand... You might come to like it here.. I'd do the stamp collecting... You'll grow to like it here..." He snapped back into reality.

"Eve --- wrong answer babe!"

He examined another picture found in the dusty trunk of his once pear faced little fruit cake. He wickedly cackled. Heck, he'd be seeing her soon enough. Not in person, but did that matter?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

6:21 P.M. Bone Country

Vincent calculated the metal's width and weight upon laying eyes upon it. "So... unused. Screaming to be dirtied. Blood mixed with flesh would give the steel flare. The mommy would be an easy target--- no witnesses! Yummy! MAKE time for desert... That's it go right behind like that,"

"------Yo! Eyes up front MotherFucker!"

Vincent turned and wiggled his arm restraints as far as they would allow to watch the boy carry the bat by the sidewalk.

Truly a skilled man's tool to create art...

"I said eyes at the front---- YO! Iceman! You need to be put in yo place again? I think it's time we teached this momma's boy a lesson," The guard takes out a tazer.

Vincent snapped towards the front of the seat again… The ride just got interesting.

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6: 28 P.M. – Bone Country

Alyssa Ashcroft was beyond pissed, as usual--- but more so.

"...This is Alyssa Ashcroft signing off Raccoon City News."

"And that's a cut----"

"This just in---- Go to hell, Mike! The story is _RIGHT THERE_! Let's just go!"

"Rules are rules--- can't cross that border without a hefty fine."

"I know something is going on over there---- The Raccoon Press sent ME out here because _I _know where to find a good story. I can see it now---- 'Just miles away from our doorsteps in Raccoon City, hundreds of men are given weapons and trained to kill. The government calls the city abandoned, but a smarter individual would call it... _The Killbot Factory_."

Silence... Followed by an eruption of laughter from the crew members present.

"Grrrrr..." Her fists clenched. "I'll find this story and when I do--- I GET ALL THE CREDIT!"

"Hahahaha hoooo... Wow... Maim, Raccoon Press sent you into the middle of Abandonville, Nowheres to get you off their backs for a change! Hahahaha! Our luck isn't so great---- we had to be dragged out here too, mainly for show."

Alyssa is used to getting her way, and now SHE IS MAD.

"You think people want to hear about this crap again? _Nobody_ cares..." Mike sighed deeply continuing. "Who would waste 50 minutes tuning into you blab about some crummy---_who knows what_. Look-y here missy---"

The portly Crewman 'Mike' popped open the heavy camera's VHS recording drive. "Nothing. We're outta film."

Her visage fumed as she removed her glasses.

"Since...?"

"We started this shit." The three other crewmembers walked back to the stark white vans 30 meters away. Mike screwed a lens-cap on. "Hmph... Five o' clock. I can make it back for dinner. My wife and kids will be mighty hungry... Pick up some doughnuts... Fried chicken. Hmmmph." Mike made his way up the small hill to the vans.

Alyssa's Index finger and thumb rubbed her temples.

"OK... Calm down..."

"Girly--- looks like a mighty storm 'be comin' hither! Best get goin'!" The man called down to her from the vans as the wind picked up. Alyssa remained by the 4-ft quarantine fence and looked across to the dark city. "So close to my biggest break. Just 4 miles away! Grrrrrrrrr..."

BLOP! A raindrop fell onto the wooden fence, another hitting the ground..

Mike shook his head. 'So determined... Heh, a good reporter. Nothin' but Hobo's and rats o'er there...'

CRACK- His last thought as a metal sledge hammer drives into his temple.

Alyssa grabbed her hand-held IMec7 camcorder aiming and shooting across the darkening landscape. "Mike--- I'm gonna find the nearest town and stay overnight--- I'm coming back here tomorrow---" She heard it. A lighter..? Fire?

BAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO---MMMMMM

PHhhhhhhSSSSHhhhhHHSHHHHHShhhhhhhhhhSShhhh

Alyssa was knocked over the barricade fence down the steep dirty drop.

Twirling

Falling

Twisting

Leaves----

Dirt

Birds chirping

Smoke

Arms flew over legs---- WHAM!

Blackness

"Oooooow...Burning?"

She lay in the underbrush, twigs and pine needles tangling in her hair. Vision refocusing, the reporter saw flames. _Flames..._ What an understatement. Burning, scorching- mile high fire! She lay in the dirt before a massive trunk, head spinning... Can't be real fire.

"Mggggg... Grrrrr... Not happening..." She said to no one unparticular rubbing her head. She stood up and... damn. The hill before her leading up to the fence and beyond that, the vans, was engulfed with smoke, embers, and flames. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision.

Yep, the flames are real.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alyssa found her hand-held IMec7 camcorder in a nearby hole. Quickly grabbing it, she began her filming and yelling; "MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE! GET YOUR FAT ASS DOWN HERE AND SAVE ME DAMNIT! ACK----" Flames burst from behind her suddenly. "What the----"

Without thinking she made a bee-line from where she had fallen back up the scorching slope towards the vans. Finding a 'safe' route- she zig-zagged around the many brush fires. "Huff-Huff- this skirt is brand new---!" For a reporter, she had some good moves.

Miss Ashcroft reached the wooden barrier and gasped; no vans...No vans...

Smoking piles of burnt rubber and... The cameras! No way! Oh, and the crew too---- Alyssa rubbed her eyes and filmed the scene in horror.

"What in the name of God could have caused this...?" The flames became more controlled now... She grasped the wooden ledge tightly.

"Mike! Speak to me----- the vans are going to explode again-----" She slowly zoomed into one of the vans where a scorched "Raccoon TIMES" was barely legible. "...Tuesday, nine o' clock p.m., Fire breaks out... Cause... To be determined----- What the------"

The digital screen showed two...three... four... black figures emerge behind the wreckage wielding... Blow torches? Alyssa shook her camera without peeling her eyes away. "...out of batteries...?" Only then did she look up before it was too late---

WHAM- Blackness

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"When I was younger… I wasn't afraid of anything. I didn't have the slightest fear of dying, no reason for it. Thought that if I died, that's fine with me anytime at all. Then I met a certain woman, and it changed. I started to think that I wanted to survive. For the first time the idea of death began to scare me. It was on my mind. Never felt that kind of feeling, almost paralyzing."

Shunsuke 'Spike' Fujita would seem to most to have a bleak outlook on life. Underneath his smooth, cool façade, perhaps he did. Shunsuke got his nickname 'Spike' after his favorite manga character 'Spike Speigal'. Their similarities are uncanny, but to classify anybody in Shunsuke's opinion would go against one of his many beliefs.

His childhood friends even called him 'A real life Spike' which is what he truly became…. For many unanswered reasons Shunsuke had outgrown his old life. He left The Red Dragon Syndicate and became a drifter. Little is known about his background.

Standing 6'3 inches possessing a lean, but muscular build, Shunsuke retained his liking of Bruce Lee throughout the years. The man's style of Jeet Kwon Do is unrivaled, as he is in hand-to-hand combat.

Shunsuke 'Spike' still never grew out his anime-like clumped hair.

Now 27 years old, Shunsuke hasn't come to terms with his past…. But soon will have to.

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6:47 P.M. – Somewhere in Backwaters City

Scream like you never have before,

Scream/

Scream till you cant scream anymore,

Scream /

Scream like your throat is bleeding,

Scream/

Scream till your heart stops beating,

SCREAM FOR ME!

Ensanguined bloodthirsty meatclevers, axes----- masks, happy costumes-- They want to give you a costume--- Rip off your expensive suit--- peal those stockings right away--

They are catching up! They are gonna rip you up---- make you bleed deep baby! Run now----- That's it---- RUN!

"AHhhhh! huuuuu huuuuu huuuu huuuuu" She woke in a cold sweat. "Ahhhuuuuuuhhhuuuuuu"

"My stockings--- damnit! Ack... Huh?" She looked around. No deranged Hawaiian clad men... Thank goodness.. The air feels moist... Something very heavy clung to it Miss Ashcroft decides.

Her head split with a migraine. "OK... Great. Listen!" She began yelling into the darkness. "The last time somebody pulled a freaking ransom job on my head--- They at least had the DECENCY to leave me FRESH CLOTHES, TYLANOL, FOOD--- preferable low carb but I will settle for anything lemony or low in trans fat--- MY CAMCORDER, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST------!"

'Phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'

"HuuuuM?" Alyssa rubs her neck. Now she's hearing things... Great.

"I'll grant that last request, Miss Ashcroft." The voice came from behind... yet

Darkness. That's all. Alyssa turned a full circle. "Wha---Who are you?"

She only then noticed a small end table. "Miss Ashcroft... THE miss Aschroft I must add..."

"Ah-huh... I fan of my work I see," She breathed out onto her highly polished nails and rubbed them on her expensive red suit. "Alright... Alright... Joke is up... Come out now and I might consider giving you an autograph."

Silence

"Erm... A studio tour,"

"... Hard to please, huh... Ok fine, one _free_ ride on the station's golf cart... And a commemorative Channel 5 mug featuring 'mwa in all my glory." She rather liked how the last one sounded.

…Silence.

"AhhhAHhehehehAHeheheAHhehehe," That had to be the sickest laugh she ever heard.

"You will do as I say..."

"SCREW YOU! LET ME OUTTTA THIS FU-----"

"The door is already open, Miss Ashcroft… Like a hobbit once said, "you

You can make a bigger name for yourself in this world of cheap thrills and entertainment... Or have your reputation cut to pieces, if you will." She noticed a camcorder---- her camcorder---- on the small wooden table and immediately began tweaking with it.

"Uh-huh... What was the third choice again?"

"No third choice... Kill or be killed, as it were. Don't worry though; I wouldn't expect you to be a murderer. You' ll be used for entertainment value really." A long pause follows.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa----- back that thang back up buddy... What did you say about my reputation? Now I know you are not talking about my reporting because----"

"Miss Ashcroft, do you know where you are?" The only light in the whole 'room' came from directly above her; a small light bulb dangling on a wire.

"Please don't make me answer a question you already know..." She snaps the 'light' button on on her camcorder.

She hesitates. Damn. No batteries.

"No. I do know where I am... Sir" She added blankly.

'Voices aren't so robotic... He has camras... He's watching me.' She glances around the room.

"Batteries are on the table Miss Ashcroft... Be a good little girl---- Sayonara!"

"Wait! Don't leave me here! Please---- Mike! MIKE! SOMEBODY---- BOB, KEVIN---- HELP ME---- MIIIIIIIIKE! MIIIIKE-----"

"You have more energy then that Energizer rat..." The voice emits again.

He rather liked this one...

"Whoever you are---- Where ever you are---- find a real hobby. Quit living through me! I'll have you know I have everything I need to light a fuse under your feet that will lead to the systematic extinction of your entire bloodsucking game!" Having that said, she snapped the batteries into place and flicked the light on.

She might just get the best story in her life.

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6:40 P.M. – Back roads of Bone Country

The first glittering star appeared overhead, as a single Jeep Cherokee broke through another embankment of saplings, plowing roughly up another bank.

Needled pine branches snapped in half upon impact of the Jeep's hood. The bank became steeper and progressively muddier the further the Jeep headed. The thick minty nature smell and massive red pine branches overhead blocked out most light in the small cool clearing. Mud brown was a now dominant color on the once red vehicle.

"Damn…. I just got this thing washed too! C'mon—" The driver stepped on the gas again, his vision focusing on the steep, muddy bank.

"All the mile markers are missing this year. I know that road went through here at one point, ah—" All Carlos Oliveira wanted was to get to NY City in one piece….

The Jeep skidded to a halt---though the tires kept spinning--- but the vehicle lost all traction. At once, the steep slope of the muddy bank left its toll as the vehicle jutts to the right, hits a thick Redwood and ricochets over fallen maples. Carlos shifts gears to reverse and pressed the petal HARD, jamming into the blackness behind him.

Swerving 180 degrees, the Jeep's bumpers fly over rocks, spiraling down the slope.

His forehead hits the steering wheel---WHAM! Carlos unbuckled his seatbelt and spun backwards to see what he had hit, which definitely did not have a wooden composition..

Blackness… To dark to see.

"If reflectors were placed every 50 feet on trees, I wouldn't have to worry about this shit!"

A surviving member of the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service, Carlos knew how to handle himself in any situation. There's no middle ground with this guy—you either hate him or rely on him completely for your life.

He opened the door and peeked around the Jeep. The crisp fresh air hit him like a bullet, as did the scene before him, "…..Not my day."

The rear of the vehicle suspended halfway over a hole—a well of sorts.

Leaves crunched under the man's boots as he encircled his only mode of transportation… Getting a good glimpse of the well. "Yep… This is all too familiar."

The wooded area had a peaceful affect with humming woodpeckers and crickets, all natural, unlike the 13 ft. abomination before him. The hole had metal lining its steep walls, and went down further then he could see. One of the Jeep's rear tires still spun now suspended in mid-air.

"Great… The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and a

leaky tire."

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**A/N:** The reason I choose to include Carlos Oliveira in this fic is because he is probably my all-time favorite character—Resident Evil wise for sure. Also, _SmilesK_ helped me out a lot on more or less her character Kiera Imuli. I rather like how she turned out. One last thing, not that he'll probably be in this fic or anything, but I heard somewhere that James Earl Cash is half black and half white. Is that true? No matter either way, but does anyone think I should include him in this fic?

Read and Review people--- email me with any extra ideas.

Love to hear any.

**Paradox022**


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